


Immortals

by kakkoweeb



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Gen, One Shot Collection, however specific tags will only be for the latest chapter, tags will be updated per chapter no matter how much it pains me, the rest will just be the volleyball clubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-01-06 02:46:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12202326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakkoweeb/pseuds/kakkoweeb
Summary: Ordinary people hate them. Sometimes they hate themselves. But they will nevernottell you that living life with magic is as much of an inconvenience as it is incredibly fun.A collection of short stories from my Magical Realism AU. Specific tags will only be for the latest chapter.





	1. miya osamu and atsumu and atsumu and atsumu and atsumu and atsu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in light of me being a complete sucker for non-romantic stories as well as magical realism, i present to you this oneshot collection for my (private) magical realism au! private in a sense that it's an actual plotted story that i have which i won't be posting anywhere once it's written. tbh, given my experience posting gen fics, i'm not expecting this to get much of a response. it's going to be more of a stress-reliever piece. something i can update to feel accomplished but without putting so much pressure on myself for it.
> 
> you can refer to this [journal entry](https://diecrotic.dreamwidth.org/8094.html) of mine on dreamwidth if you want to find out more about the actual thing tho!

If there was one sure-fire sign that shit was going down, it had to be Osamu coming home to a completely quiet living room after school, knowing full well that Atsumu had gone there ahead of him.

A lot of people could guess, probably, that Atsumu was the kind of guy that was naturally attracted to mischief, on account of that smug grin he always seemed to have on no matter the time of day or the situation, but they didn't know the half of it. It was a half that only Osamu knew of, and he was sure of that, because he was the only one who'd ever had to come home to complete and utter chaos or an entire bathroom flooded with green water, apparently the most conducive environment for growing magical seaweed, and only he ever had to deal with Atsumu on the regular.

And so only he knew that Atsumu, at home and by himself, would never be this quiet without reason.

"Atsumu?" he called out, warily.

"We're in here!"

And there it was.

With a near-silent groan Osamu slipped out of his shoes and headed straight for their shared bedroom. With how often he complained, one would think their parents would have mercy and  _finally_ let him have his own private space, one separate from his demon spawn of a twin and all the shenanigans that came with him. Because yes, Miya Atsumu was a troublemaker, but he was anything _but_ that typical bad boy that girls loved to squeal about in the movies. The mischief he got up to on the regular consisted of things like experimenting with magical coffee brews he wasn't familiar with and ending up blue, and all the trouble he caused wasn't so much for himself as it solely was for Osamu, number one victim of food-stealing, shoe-hiding, borrowed-item-losing and every other human inconvenience one could imagine.

But the worst of it had to be Atsumu's ability--his ability that he loved (to bother Osamu with) so much.

Osamu opened the door to the bedroom--knew better than to step inside it--and sure enough: Atsumu was there. And so was Atsumu. And Atsumu. Atsumu, too. And another Atsumu. And don't forget Atsumu. Who was that in the corner? Oh, Atsumu. Beside him was Atsumu. And over there was--

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Osamu sighed. "How many of you are in here?"

"Twenty-nine," the Atsumu sitting on the bed with his eyes glued to his phone quickly said.

"You're the real one, then?"

"'Samu, please, all of us are real."

"You know what I mean." Osamu could only shake his head. Each blonde head and stupid face in the room was holding a phone; Atsumu had probably duplicated his own as well, perhaps to give each of his clones something to use for whatever endeavour this even was. He wished he could frown at every single one of them. "What are you up to now?"

"The otaku club at school is holding a trivia contest for this one manga, I forget the title," one of the Atsumus further in the back replied, and a few others beside him all rapidly tapped on their devices, perhaps to return to the cover page to figure out what the god-forsaken manga was called. "Grand prize is 10,000 yen, and we want the money."

"'We' being...?"

"Me and Suna. Oh, and our entire assembly right here," the Atsumu by the windowsill said, nodding at the rest of his company. A few of them nodded back.

"He's the one who suggested an online manga reader, since obviously I can't buy the entire series on paper. Suna, I mean," the Atsumu with his head on another Atsumu's lap continued. "The contest is tomorrow so me and the boys are binge-reading as fast as we can. The goal is to collate all the information we've gathered by eleven o'clock tonight so we still have time for sleep and things."

"Uh-huh. And what if I want to sleep before eleven?"

All twenty-eight of the duplicates looked up and glared at him. "Then you don't want 10,000 yen," they said in unison, and the real (pain in the ass) Atsumu, eyes still on the manga, smiled.

"Come on, show a little support," he said, swiping at his screen. "You love me and all my duplicates, don't you?"

Osamu briefly shut his eyes, a silent prayer for patience. "'Tsumu, I don't know how to be any franker with you," he said. "You're my twin, so you're already like a second me. And one of you is bad enough. Actually, one of you is pretty terrible. So I don't need two of you. Or three, or four, or _thirty_ of you."

"Twenty-nine."

Most days, the most intelligent answer one could give Atsumu and the rest of his clan was a flat face and exasperated silence--a fact of life that Osamu had long since accepted, after a spiritual journey through the previous four stages of grief, of course. But 10,000 yen honestly didn't sound so bad. He blew at nothing in particular, sent a tuft of his own fringe bouncing up for a second.

"We're splitting the money fifty-fifty."

"Suna and I are already doing that."

"Then we're splitting your fifty by another fifty. And you're paying for the dog food this month."

"Aww, what?"

"Or I'm telling dad you're the one who used his money for that instant sock delivery subscription."

"Shit." The entire sea of faces spelled bitterness. "Damn it. Fine, deal."

The twenty-nine variations of Atsumu's upset face were a pretty good consolation in addition, and Osamu let satisfaction take over his own expression as he wormed his way through Atsumu after Atsumu to grab a pillow he could camp out with on the couch before eleven. He was capable of his own type of mischief, he realized as he lightly and blindly swung his pillow only to hit an unsuspecting Atsumu in the arm ("Hey!" several layers of his twin's voice stacked together cried). Maybe he would have Atsumu's phone fall apart early tomorrow morning just for a little extra payback. For what other reason could he have been given his ability for, anyway?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: the words in this chapter are 6% atsumu.
> 
> || [tumblr](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/diecrotic) | [writing journal](https://diecrotic.dreamwidth.org/) | [instagram bc why not](https://www.instagram.com/diecrotic/) ||


	2. snow (hey oh) by The Seijoh 2nd Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you haven't noticed, chapter titles inform you about the characters as well as the premise of the chapter, in the most creative way possible, because i love giving myself a hard time and being a failure trash human being.
> 
> to find out more about this au, [click here](https://diecrotic.dreamwidth.org/8094.html)!

The snow came fast this year; fast and hard. A little too fast and a little too hard for Yahaba's liking (though it wasn't exactly difficult to get on his bad side), and so by late November, along with the harsh downpour of the frosty white stuff, came an equally brutal onslaught of complaints that the ground wouldn't be able to catch.

So naturally, Watari and Kyoutani had to.

"Wata _ri,_ " Yahaba groaned, not for the first time that week, holding the last syllable of the name for far longer than he should as he allowed his face to fall on Watari's shoulder, "it's so cold. And it's going to be so hard to walk back home. Make the snow stop."

"If I could, and put an end to all your whining, you know I would," Watari said, popping a piece of broccoli in his mouth straight after.

"You totally could! You make wishes come true. I wish they give us the rest of the day off!"

All three of them, gathered around Watari's classroom desk with their lunch boxes laid out before them, waited. Nothing happened.

Yahaba glared. "Why didn't you grant it?"

"Like I've been telling you since we first met, it's not my ability," Watari said, matter-of-factly. "Most of the time, the wishes are granted against my will. I don't control it. Though if I could, that would be pretty awesome."

"You'd probably get tortured because of it."

"That's a very positive thought; thank you, Kyoutani." 

"Ugh, why does  _this_ condition have to be on and off too? Why can't there be permanent conditions when the effects are good?" Yahaba complained, before proceeding to seize both of Watari's arms and shake the entirety of his being as if he wasn't currently holding chopsticks and food. "Work! Grant it! I wish for a day off from the snow!"

" _Ya_ —  _ha_  —  _ba — no!"_

"See, you're already getting tortured because of it."

" _I — hate — you — both!"_

And if he hated November, then everyone was pretty sure that December was going to murder him, and consequently, Watari. Whereas Yahaba left home with the complete set of winter gear, Watari had taken to bringing along an extra scarf as well as a helmet and pepper spray for when things got a little out of hand. By the first week he hadn't used it yet, but if Yahaba was going to make a habit of clinging to him the entire walk to school and whispering wishes in his ear, he was certain he'd have to press the button soon.

"I wish they cancel school today."

"Me too," Watari only said, trudging on.

"Did it work?"

Kyoutani pulled his phone out of his pocket and examined it. "They'd probably message us about it if it did."

"Watari!"

"I don't control it!"

One would think that Yahaba, with his ability to cannibalize other people's skills from them, would just find someone with excellent tolerance for cold or better limb strength and work his magic in order to survive the dire weather, but no, it seemed he'd rather expend his efforts on sending Watari useless texts during class (wishes in text form wasn't even under the scope of Watari's wish-granting condition), calling him at night for the cancellation of the next day's class, chasing him around in the hallway when he refused to let Yahaba get within ten feet just to start shaking him again.

Monday morning of the second week of December, Watari's first destination was the corner boys' bathroom stall, and Yahaba's was against the stall door.

"Wata _ri!"_ he cried, his nose completely clogged. If only it affected his ability to run and bang against wood as well. "I'm dying! Don't you care that I'm dying? I wish they cancel school for the rest of the week!"

"Yahaba, I swear, I do too," Watari replied, pleading, "but I'm sorry, I don't control it, okay? It'll get granted if it's meant to be, and you  _don't have to chase me for it,_ yeah?"

"But the more times I make the wish, the higher the chances of it getting granted!"

" _That still doesn't mean you have to shake me like a snow globe."_

By Wednesday, Watari was wielding his backpack as well as a baseball bat. Kyoutani snickered.

"Don't laugh at me! You see how he is," Watari said, adjusting the helmet as well as the beanie on his head—his two modes of protection, one from the cold, one from his three-week assailant. "I don't know how many times I have to tell him that pushing me around or rubbing me like a genie lamp isn't going to work. God, I wish he would let up a little."

They both fell silent, waited.

"Wait, do you think that worked?"

"Wata _ri!"_

"Nope," Kyoutani said.

Watari groaned aloud, whirled around to hopefully spot Yahaba before he inevitably sent them both hurtling to the ground. "Yahaba, I don't control it," he yelled immediately, poising his bat like he would a tiny knife, "and if you come anywhere near me, I'm going to hit you with this baseball bat, I mean it!"

Yahaba skidded to a stop, his chest lightly colliding with the end of the bat. "I wish school would be out for the rest of the week."

They waited. Nothing happened.

"I wish the snow would go away?"

The wind continued to howl outside the building.

"Damn it! What am I doing wrong?"

"You're not doing anything wrong; conditions are unpredictable, you know that. I guess it's just not active right now, or it happens to be asleep every time you ask."

"Or maybe it hates you," Kyoutani offered.

Yahaba scowled at him. "Conditions can't hate people. They're not alive, asshole."

Kyoutani looked at Watari. "I wish they'd give us the day off till Friday."

The hallway speakers crackled, and the principal's announcement broadcasting music sounded.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Watari muttered.

"Attention, all students of Aoba Johsai. Due to the terrible state of the weather, all classes have been officially cancelled until the end of this week. The safety of our students and personnel is first priority, and the snow has been predicted to get even worse this afternoon until the weekend. It would be advisable for all of us to get home now and stay home until conditions get better. Classes will resume on Monday. That's all; thank you, and please take care of yourselves."

The same sounds and sensations that flood the halls at three o'clock in the afternoon of everyday resounded all around them, but Yahaba, Kyoutani, and Watari stayed rooted in their spots, the only movement coming from Yahaba's head, turning slowly, menacingly, towards Watari, who wondered whether he'd be hitting it with the bat today after all.

"Wata _ri!"_

" _I — don't — control — it!"_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank god for word counting sites. what would i do if i didn't know that this fic's longest sentence has 103 words?
> 
> || [tumblr](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/diecrotic) | [writing journal](https://diecrotic.dreamwidth.org/) | [instagram bc why not](https://www.instagram.com/diecrotic/) ||


	3. nekoma is flying too close to the sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a brief look into the Nekoma Dynamic
> 
> more info about this au [here!](https://diecrotic.dreamwidth.org/8094.html)

Right at the peak of the afternoon, the sun high and a dazzling orange in the sky, Lev looked up from the glaring of cats sprawled on the ground surrounding Kuroo just because they could and blinked up at the clouds. 

"Hey, Kuroo-san," he called, still watching the vast expanse of warm colour stretched above him like it would leave if he averted his eyes for even a second. 

"Hm?" was Kuroo's only response, the sound of it still managing to get above the mewling of stray cats and the bustle of the other guys (Yamamoto in particular, yelling, perhaps searching for something through the sound waves) seated on the grass a few feet away. 

"How high do you think I can reach if I fly up?"

The abrupt movement of Kuroo's head, turning towards Lev despite the stiffness of his entire body, would have been alarming had Lev only paid enough attention to see it. "Don't--what the hell, don't ask that," he said, already mildly perturbed, clearly, if the knitting of his eyebrows and the shaking of his head were any indication. "And don't wonder it either. There are ancient stories centered on the fact that flying up high is the worst idea anyone could possibly have."

"What stories?"

"Have you never heard of Icarus?"

"No, but he sounds Spanish."

"He's Greek. And the son of Daedalus the inventor who happened to make a flying machine made out of wax so they could escape imprisonment. He was warned not to fly too close to the sun because the wax would melt, but he was so excited that he forgot and his wings melted and he freakin' rocketed into the sea and drowned."

Lev snorted. "That sounds like a stretch." And he stood up.

"Maybe it is, but--what-- _where are you going._ "

"I just think it's a shame that I have this kind of ability and I never get to push it to the limit," he said, already slowly hoisting himself up off the ground. "You know?"

"No, I don't know, I don't care! Get back down here, you hooligan!" 

The cats loudly meowed as Kuroo dived in Lev's direction, trying to catch his legs at the very least, but Lev was free as a bird now, and he had no business getting grabbed by any land critters any longer. He swiftly swerved out of Kuroo's way, steered himself high enough to get above all 187 centimeters of the upperclassman's height and then some.

Kuroo didn't particularly like face-planting into the soil. "Lev. Feet on the ground, I swear to god," he said through a mouthful of grass.

But Lev wasn't listening. His eyes were on the prize: the great and wide sky, the horizon line, getting closer and closer the higher he rose away from the ground, the sad realm of the walkers. He would set one of those Guinness world records, he decided. 'Greatest Height Achieved by Man Without Contraption Or Supervision'. 

"Lev!"

No, 'The Only Man to Reach the Clouds and Live, and Be Back Before Dinnertime'.

" _Lev._ "

"Don't worry, Kuroo-san!" he cried, already grinning at his prospective triumphs as he circled the air, moving further and further up, becoming more and more unable to see the grief and horror on Kuroo's face. "I won't fly to the sun!"

" _That's what Icarus said! Fuck! Yakkun, help!"_

With one last whoop, Lev somersaulted away, path of flight not unlike a remote control airplane being toyed with by a little boy with terrible intentions. By the time Yaku and the others managed to scramble to their feet and reach the point of departure, the scene of the crime, he was already too far up for anyone without a similar ability to reach and looking far too happy about it.

"Holy shit," Yaku said, "where's he going?"

"He said he wants to find his highest point of flight!"

"What? How's he gonna know it's his highest point without either giving up or losing his capacity to keep flying?"

"I don't know! But we need to get him down!"

" _How?"_

Fukunaga held up a slingshot. "Let's shoot him down."

" _No_."

"Maybe Inuoka can shift into a bird and talk him into coming down," Kai suggested.

"Uh-uh, no way," Yamamoto said, and Inuoka beside him looked grateful for the intervention, "he's up there flying like there aren't any air regulations. When he gets to the sun and comes crashing down, we can't have Inuoka crashing down with him."

"Don't say  _when_ he gets to the sun! No one's getting to the sun!"

"I don't know, Kuro, he's looking pretty dedicated."

"Thank you, Kenma."

"Yaku-san, would you be able to de-animate him from here?"

"Yamamoto, he's  _really_ going to crash down if I turn him into an inanimate object!"

"What the hell! You're all useless!" Kuroo yelled, clutching at his hair and desperately trying to keep the ever-shrinking Lev within his line of sight. "Someone call Alisa-san!"

 

In the end, Alisa had managed to catch his attention, apparently by using her plants to spell out a threatening message that Lev--even miles above ground--wouldn't be able to miss, and Lev had come down with extremely ugly tears on his face, immediately wrapping his sister in a hug and wailing about how much his ears hurt and declaring that he was never doing that again. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that they were still bound by  _some_ laws of Science when everything about them was irrational to the core, but Kuroo headed home mostly calm that day, sending a silent thanks to the universe for making pressure directly proportional to height.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somehow my brain registered that i had 3838 things to do for school and decided it was a good time to finally write this
> 
> || [tumblr](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/diecrotic) | [writing journal](https://diecrotic.dreamwidth.org/) | [instagram bc why not](https://www.instagram.com/diecrotic/) ||


	4. oikawa's favorite juice flavor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i'm cheating i k NOW I SAID that this is a gen fic, but they're teenagers in a magic club; do you _seriously_ think there isn't going to be any crushing happening?? at all??? nah man nah. i am weak and oikawa is even weaker 
> 
> this chapter's still mostly about him, though. as usual, here's the [thing](https://diecrotic.dreamwidth.org/8094.html)!!

" _Oikawa!"_  

By the time the already sour-faced, foul mood Oikawa realized that Iwaizumi was yelling, drawing out every syllable of his name, he was already yelling in accompaniment, stumbling as the back of his collar was ruthlessly yanked.

"What the  _hell_ is your problem?" he screamed, snatching his blazer away from Iwaizumi's brutish hands and turning to face the beast himself, flanked by a profusely-sweating Matsukawa and a half-dressed Hanamaki.

Iwaizumi's own sleeves were rolled up. "It's like a forty degree summer right now and it's the middle of January! What could  _possibly_ be causing this on your walk home?"

"Oh, I'll tell you what's causing this!" He pulled a folded newspaper out of his bag and slapped it into Iwaizumi's hands. "Look at today's paper! Front page and then page five."

The three of them stared at the offending news print, but only Matsukawa bothered examining the actual offending text, turning the page as Iwaizumi and Hanamaki scrunched up their faces. "You're interrupting winter with the hottest summer Sendai has ever experienced," Hanamaki demanded, "because of _today's news?"_

"I can't help how mad I am! Look at this stupid article!" Oikawa snatched the paper out of Matsukawa's hands, turned to the correct page, and tapped at the paragraphs that had set him off, practically shoving it in Iwaizumi's face. "A fire started in a hotel in Tokyo and what does everyone within ten feet of the accident think to do? Blame it on magic! There wasn't any evidence that even suggested that a magical person was anywhere near the scene, but there they go, already with a backstory and everything! Did you know they already have potential suspects? Apparently someone living in the area has one of those flame pets and people have been complaining about him; wouldn't  _this_ just be the most convenient excuse for them to take his pet away from him—"

" _Oikawa,_ " Iwaizumi cut in, shoving the paper away and grabbing him by the shoulders, "we get it. Okay? You have every right to be infuriated because that's unfair. And it sucks that there was a fire too, but—" 

He wheezed, gestured to the orange sky and the confused plants expecting cool weather. "We're all dying. What can we do to help you make it winter again?"

Oikawa huffed. "Sorry. But you know I've never successfully done this on purpose. Usually it becomes winter when I'm sad or something, and I don't even know what the criteria is for autumn, and I've never made it spring, so—I don't know, maybe I just need to...calm down, and it'll go back to the way it was."

"I think I know what'll help," Matsukawa said, grabbing his phone and getting busy.

Eyeing Mattsun with his phone and Makki and Iwaizumi dabbing at their oiled-up faces, Oikawa crossed his arms, images of a fire and a poor magic user who lived miles away still flooding his brain, the evident and rampant discrimination only further fueling his rage—though he honestly didn't need to look far for any reminders. It happened at any place and at any time and to anybody, his friends no exception. He couldn't count the number of times Iwaizumi had gotten in trouble for picking fights with people who messed with him, or the times that someone randomly grabbed Mattsun's hand and forced it to write the fulfillment of their sick wishes.

It didn't stop there, he knew. People called him awesome, cool, thought he was only brave for keeping so many magic users as friends, but if they knew that this scathing summer heat and the sudden harsh winters in July were because of an extraordinary disease he couldn't get rid of, he'd be outcasted in a second, driven away, told that he was no longer welcome.

And  _god,_ that made him mad, how people could be so easily blamed for things they didn't ask for. He fucking  _hated_ it. He—

Matsukawa pressed the phone against his ear. "Here, talk to him."

"What—talk to who—hello?"

"Oikawa-san?"

Oikawa felt his heart and other major bodily functions cease.

"Tobio? What are you—I mean—huh?"

"Uhh, I got a call from Matsukawa-san's phone all of a sudden. I wasn't expecting you. Did you need something?"

"No—uh, I mean—" He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, turned to his so-called 'friends' for help, only to find them grinning from ear to ear, Hanamaki and Iwaizumi nudging Matsukawa who only had a nonchalant and irritatingly proud shrug to offer. Oikawa flipped them off. 

"Oh. Tsukishima's telling me to ask you if you're changing the season again."

Oikawa cringed. "Yeah, I am. Sorry. Too hot?"

"Yeah, really hot. But it's fine; you don't do it on purpose."

Oikawa bit his lip. His friends would mock him if they caught him smiling.

"Could I ask what happened to make it this hot? Are you angry?"

Was he? Oh, right, that was right.Oikawa brought a hand to brush at the back of his own neck. "Ah—yeah. I just read an article about a fire in Tokyo and how they're blaming a guy with a Flame who wasn't anywhere near the scene. It's just—it's so unfair, you know?"

"Oh. Yeah, I understand. It sucks how much they hate us when they don't really know anything about us."

"Right? There aren't even any confirmed incidents of Flames causing fires. Everyone's just jumping to what conclusions are convenient for them."

"There aren't any confirmed incidents? Really?"

"Yeah, I did a little reading on arson reports that were associated with Flames before, and none of the cases had any solid evidence."

"Huh. That's interesting. You're really hardworking and smart, Oikawa-san. I hope that guy in Tokyo has someone like you to help him fight to prove his innocence."

The heat of his self-generated summer had been nothing a few minutes ago, but he could feel it now, burning the skin of his face and everywhere else, sweat already collecting where his shirt met his skin. Oikawa tried biting his lip again, but the smile was too strong, forced him to casually turn away from his friends instead and draw his feelings out, squeeze his eyes shut and grin with teeth, while they couldn't see. "I—I hope someone'll help him too, yeah."

"If he's a member of the Tokyo club, they'll probably help him, right?"

"Right."

"So you should try and calm down. And not just because Tsukishima's yelling at me to tell you to bring winter back. It's unfair, but being really mad isn't good, right? You said before that frowning gives you wrinkles. I mean—not that you'd look bad with wrinkles; you look good all the time, but—um. You know."

His giddy laugh, uncontainable, slipped out of his mouth with a soft, high-pitched squeal his friends were never going to let him live down.

"Uh, what was that? Are you okay?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm good. Thank you, thanks. Uhh." He sounded like a moron and it was only getting hotter. Oikawa took a moment to breathe without making any humiliating noises. "Thank you, Tobio. For the chat. I think it helped me cool down."

"Yeah, looks like it did." What? What did that mean? "Are you headed home?"

"Oh, yeah, I was on the way when Iwa-chan and the others mauled me and started whining."

"Okay. I'll go now too. Have a safe trip back, Oikawa-san. I'll see you at club."

"You—you too. I mean—have a safe trip back and see you at club. Too."

"Bye."

"Bye," Oikawa managed to mutter, though a tad more breathless than he should've been, and he allowed himself a deep inhale and a moment to shut his eyes and pull himself together, enough to deal with the onslaught of cooing and laughter that would inevitably come after this temporary bout of uncharacteristic silence. "Ugh! My skin feels like it's on fire. How did I not feel this earlier? How do we get winter back?"

"Uh. Oikawa?"

The quiet and awed voice seemed to pry Oikawa's eyes open, and he turned to see Hanamaki now fully clothed, Iwaizumi's sleeves down, and Matsukawa completely free of sweat, all three of them gawking at the shrubs and bushes and trees that lined the side of the road. And when he followed their gaze, he gawked too, as he found the sky cloudless and a beautiful shade of pale blue, leaves he hadn't seen since August lush and green, flowers he'd completely forgotten about colorful and in full bloom.

From the corner of his wide open eye, Oikawa saw Iwaizumi take a breath. "I think we just figured out what feeling corresponds with spring."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nobody plays volleyball here; in this au, kageyama is in track. and without the strain, all that's left is oikawa finding kageyama adorable lmaooo. and yes. flames make very famous pets here bc [this post](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/post/168577650912/aprilwitching-candles-are-how-we-keep-fires-as) is cute af
> 
> this isn't the only ship in the big au but it might be the only one i can write without (a) needing to introduce an oc, or (b) involving too much of the plot, so this is probably the last semblance of romance we'll all see in this oneshot compilation. adios.
> 
> || [tumblr](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/diecrotic) | [writing updates](https://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/writing) | [instagram bc why not](https://www.instagram.com/diecrotic/) ||


End file.
